MoMA

Paul Cézanne. (French, 1839-1906). Still Life with Apples. 1895-98. Oil on canvas, 27 x 36 1/2" (68.6 x 92.7 cm). Lillie P. Bliss Collection Text from: www.moma.org/collection/browse_results.php?object_id=78486

Paul Cézanne. (French, 1839-1906). Château Noir. 1903-04. Oil on canvas, 29 x 36 3/4" (73.6 x 93.2 cm). Gift of Mrs. David M. Levy Gallery label text 2008 After settling in Aix, France, in 1899, Cézanne ventured daily into the surrounding Provençal landscape in search of subjects to paint. The Château Noir, a recently constructed neo–Gothic castle designed to mimic aged ruins, captivated him. He repeatedly represented this structure and also painted from its grounds, where he had an unobstructed view of nearby Mont Sainte–Victoire, another favored subject. As is typical of landscapes executed late in his career, Cézanne applied thick paint in broad, multihued swatches. This painting once belonged to Claude Monet and hung in his bedroom in Giverny. Text from: www.moma.org/collection/browse_results.php?object_id=87099

Paul Cézanne. (French, 1839-1906). Château Noir. 1903-04. Oil on canvas, 29 x 36 3/4" (73.6 x 93.2 cm). Gift of Mrs. David M. Levy Text from: www.moma.org/collection/browse_results.php?object_id=87099

Paul Cézanne. (French, 1839-1906). Château Noir. 1903-04. Oil on canvas, 29 x 36 3/4" (73.6 x 93.2 cm). Gift of Mrs. David M. Levy Gallery label text 2008 After settling in Aix, France, in 1899, Cézanne ventured daily into the surrounding Provençal landscape in search of subjects to paint. The Château Noir, a recently constructed neo–Gothic castle designed to mimic aged ruins, captivated him. He repeatedly represented this structure and also painted from its grounds, where he had an unobstructed view of nearby Mont Sainte–Victoire, another favored subject. As is typical of landscapes executed late in his career, Cézanne applied thick paint in broad, multihued swatches. This painting once belonged to Claude Monet and hung in his bedroom in Giverny. Text from: www.moma.org/collection/browse_results.php?object_id=87099

Paul Cezanne (French, 1839-1906) L'Estaque, 1879-1883 The William S. Paley Collection, 1959 Text from the MoMA label.

Paul Cézanne. (French, 1839-1906). L'Estaque. 1879-83. Oil on canvas, 31 1/2 x 39" (80.3 x 99.4 cm). The William S. Paley Collection Text from: www.moma.org/collection/browse_results.php?criteria=O:AD:...

Paul Cézanne. (French, 1839-1906). Turning Road at Montgeroult. 1898. Oil on canvas, 32 x 25 7/8" (81.3 x 65.7 cm). Mrs. John Hay Whitney Bequest Text from: www.moma.org/collection/browse_results.php?object_id=80025

Paul Cézanne. (French, 1839-1906). Pines and Rocks (Fontainebleau?). c. 1897. Oil on canvas, 32 x 25 3/4" (81.3 x 65.4 cm). Lillie P. Bliss Collection Text from: www.moma.org/collection/browse_results.php?object_id=78454

Paul Cézanne. (French, 1839-1906). Pines and Rocks (Fontainebleau?). c. 1897. Oil on canvas, 32 x 25 3/4" (81.3 x 65.4 cm). Lillie P. Bliss Collection Text from: www.moma.org/collection/browse_results.php?object_id=78454

Paul Cézanne. (French, 1839-1906). The Bather. c. 1885. Oil on canvas, 50 x 38 1/8" (127 x 96.8 cm). Lillie P. Bliss Collection Publication excerpt The Museum of Modern Art, MoMA Highlights, New York: The Museum of Modern Art, revised 2004, originally published 1999 The Bather is one of Cézanne's most evocative paintings of the figure, although the unmuscled torso and arms have no heroic pretensions, and the drawing, in traditional, nineteenth-century terms, is awkward and imprecise. The bather's left, forward leg is placed firmly on the ground, but his right leg trails and carries no weight. The right side of his body is pulled higher than the left, the chin curves lopsidedly, and the right arm is elongated and oblique. The landscape is as bare as a desert, but its green, violet, and rose coloration refuses that name. Its dreaming expanse matches the bather's pensiveness. Likewise, the shadows on the body, rather than shifting to black, share the colors of the air, land, and water; and the brushwork throughout is a network of hatch-marks and dapples, restless yet extraordinarily refined. The figure moves toward us but does not meet our gaze. These disturbances can be characterized as modern: they indicate that while Cézanne had an acute respect for much of traditional art, he did not represent the male nude the way the classical and Renaissance artists had done. He wanted to make an art that was "solid and durable like the art of the museums" but that also reflected a modern sensibility incorporating the new understanding of vision and light developed by the Impressionists. He wanted to make an art of his own time that rivaled the traditions of the past. Text from: www.moma.org/collection/browse_results.php?object_id=78296

Paul Cézanne. (French, 1839-1906). The Bather. c. 1885. Oil on canvas, 50 x 38 1/8" (127 x 96.8 cm). Lillie P. Bliss Collection Publication excerpt The Museum of Modern Art, MoMA Highlights, New York: The Museum of Modern Art, revised 2004, originally published 1999 The Bather is one of Cézanne's most evocative paintings of the figure, although the unmuscled torso and arms have no heroic pretensions, and the drawing, in traditional, nineteenth-century terms, is awkward and imprecise. The bather's left, forward leg is placed firmly on the ground, but his right leg trails and carries no weight. The right side of his body is pulled higher than the left, the chin curves lopsidedly, and the right arm is elongated and oblique. The landscape is as bare as a desert, but its green, violet, and rose coloration refuses that name. Its dreaming expanse matches the bather's pensiveness. Likewise, the shadows on the body, rather than shifting to black, share the colors of the air, land, and water; and the brushwork throughout is a network of hatch-marks and dapples, restless yet extraordinarily refined. The figure moves toward us but does not meet our gaze. These disturbances can be characterized as modern: they indicate that while Cézanne had an acute respect for much of traditional art, he did not represent the male nude the way the classical and Renaissance artists had done. He wanted to make an art that was "solid and durable like the art of the museums" but that also reflected a modern sensibility incorporating the new understanding of vision and light developed by the Impressionists. He wanted to make an art of his own time that rivaled the traditions of the past. Text from: www.moma.org/collection/browse_results.php?object_id=78296

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec. (French, 1864-1901). La Goulue at the Moulin Rouge. (1891-92). Oil on board, 31 1/4 x 23 1/4" (79.4 x 59.0 cm). Gift of Mrs. David M. Levy Text from: www.moma.org/collection/browse_results.php?object_id=34936

Henri Rousseau. (French, 1844-1910). The Sleeping Gypsy. 1897. Oil on canvas, 51" x 6' 7" (129.5 x 200.7 cm). Gift of Mrs. Simon Guggenheim Publication excerpt The Museum of Modern Art, MoMA Highlights, New York: The Museum of Modern Art, revised 2004, originally published 1999, p. 29 As a musician, the gypsy in this painting is an artist; as a traveler, she has no clear social place. Lost in the self-absorption that is deep, dreaming sleep, she is dangerously vulnerable—yet the lion is calmed and entranced. The Sleeping Gypsy is formally exacting—its contours precise, its color crystalline, its lines, surfaces, and accents carefully rhymed. Rousseau plays delicately with light on the lion's body. A letter of his describes the painting's subject: "A wandering Negress, a mandolin player, lies with her jar beside her (a vase with drinking water), overcome by fatigue in a deep sleep. A lion chances to pass by, picks up her scent yet does not devour her. There is a moonlight effect, very poetic. The scene is set in a completely arid desert. The gypsy is dressed in oriental costume." A sometime douanier (toll collector) for the city of Paris, Rousseau was a self-taught painter, whose work seemed entirely unsophisticated to most of its early viewers. Much in his art, however, found modernist echoes: the flattened shapes and perspectives, the freedom of color and style, the subordination of realistic description to imagination and invention. As a consequence, critics and artists appreciated Rousseau long before the general public did. Text from: www.moma.org/collection/browse_results.php?object_id=80172

Edvard Munch. (Norwegian, 1863-1944). The Storm. 1893. Oil on canvas, 36 1/8 x 51 1/2" (91.8 x 130.8 cm). Gift of Mr. and Mrs. H. Irgens Larsen and acquired through the Lillie P. Bliss and Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Funds. Publication excerpt The Museum of Modern Art, MoMA Highlights, New York: The Museum of Modern Art, revised 2004, originally published 1999, p. 44 Munch painted The Storm in Aasgaardstrand, a small Norwegian seaside resort where he often stayed. There had indeed been a violent storm there that summer, but the painting does not appear to show it, or even its physical aftermath; the storm here is an inner one, a psychic distress. Standing near the water, in an eerie blue half-light, half-dark Scandi-navian summer night, a young woman clasps her hands to her head. Other women, standing apart from her, make the same anguished gesture—to what end we are not sure. The circle in which they stand, and the protagonist's white dress, give to the scene the feeling of some ancient pagan ritual, even while the solid house in the background, its lit windows shining in the dark, suggests some more regular life from which these women are excluded—or perhaps that they find intolerable. Munch's art suggests a transformation of personal memories and emotions into a realm of dream, myth, and enigma. His exposure to French Symbolist poetry during a stay in Paris had convinced him of the necessity for a more subjective art; there was no need, he said, for more paintings of "people who read and women who knit." Associated with the international development of Symbolism in the 1890s, he is also recognized as a precursor of Expressionism. Text from: www.moma.org/collection/browse_results.php?object_id=80644

Edvard Munch. (Norwegian, 1863-1944). The Storm. 1893. Oil on canvas, 36 1/8 x 51 1/2" (91.8 x 130.8 cm). Gift of Mr. and Mrs. H. Irgens Larsen and acquired through the Lillie P. Bliss and Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Funds. Publication excerpt The Museum of Modern Art, MoMA Highlights, New York: The Museum of Modern Art, revised 2004, originally published 1999, p. 44 Munch painted The Storm in Aasgaardstrand, a small Norwegian seaside resort where he often stayed. There had indeed been a violent storm there that summer, but the painting does not appear to show it, or even its physical aftermath; the storm here is an inner one, a psychic distress. Standing near the water, in an eerie blue half-light, half-dark Scandi-navian summer night, a young woman clasps her hands to her head. Other women, standing apart from her, make the same anguished gesture—to what end we are not sure. The circle in which they stand, and the protagonist's white dress, give to the scene the feeling of some ancient pagan ritual, even while the solid house in the background, its lit windows shining in the dark, suggests some more regular life from which these women are excluded—or perhaps that they find intolerable. Munch's art suggests a transformation of personal memories and emotions into a realm of dream, myth, and enigma. His exposure to French Symbolist poetry during a stay in Paris had convinced him of the necessity for a more subjective art; there was no need, he said, for more paintings of "people who read and women who knit." Associated with the international development of Symbolism in the 1890s, he is also recognized as a precursor of Expressionism. Text from: www.moma.org/collection/browse_results.php?object_id=80644

Edvard Munch. (Norwegian, 1863-1944). The Storm. 1893. Oil on canvas, 36 1/8 x 51 1/2" (91.8 x 130.8 cm). Gift of Mr. and Mrs. H. Irgens Larsen and acquired through the Lillie P. Bliss and Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Funds. Publication excerpt The Museum of Modern Art, MoMA Highlights, New York: The Museum of Modern Art, revised 2004, originally published 1999, p. 44 Munch painted The Storm in Aasgaardstrand, a small Norwegian seaside resort where he often stayed. There had indeed been a violent storm there that summer, but the painting does not appear to show it, or even its physical aftermath; the storm here is an inner one, a psychic distress. Standing near the water, in an eerie blue half-light, half-dark Scandi-navian summer night, a young woman clasps her hands to her head. Other women, standing apart from her, make the same anguished gesture—to what end we are not sure. The circle in which they stand, and the protagonist's white dress, give to the scene the feeling of some ancient pagan ritual, even while the solid house in the background, its lit windows shining in the dark, suggests some more regular life from which these women are excluded—or perhaps that they find intolerable. Munch's art suggests a transformation of personal memories and emotions into a realm of dream, myth, and enigma. His exposure to French Symbolist poetry during a stay in Paris had convinced him of the necessity for a more subjective art; there was no need, he said, for more paintings of "people who read and women who knit." Associated with the international development of Symbolism in the 1890s, he is also recognized as a precursor of Expressionism. Text from: www.moma.org/collection/browse_results.php?object_id=80644

Edvard Munch. (Norwegian, 1863-1944). The Storm. 1893. Oil on canvas, 36 1/8 x 51 1/2" (91.8 x 130.8 cm). Gift of Mr. and Mrs. H. Irgens Larsen and acquired through the Lillie P. Bliss and Abby Aldrich Rockefeller Funds. Publication excerpt The Museum of Modern Art, MoMA Highlights, New York: The Museum of Modern Art, revised 2004, originally published 1999, p. 44 Munch painted The Storm in Aasgaardstrand, a small Norwegian seaside resort where he often stayed. There had indeed been a violent storm there that summer, but the painting does not appear to show it, or even its physical aftermath; the storm here is an inner one, a psychic distress. Standing near the water, in an eerie blue half-light, half-dark Scandi-navian summer night, a young woman clasps her hands to her head. Other women, standing apart from her, make the same anguished gesture—to what end we are not sure. The circle in which they stand, and the protagonist's white dress, give to the scene the feeling of some ancient pagan ritual, even while the solid house in the background, its lit windows shining in the dark, suggests some more regular life from which these women are excluded—or perhaps that they find intolerable. Munch's art suggests a transformation of personal memories and emotions into a realm of dream, myth, and enigma. His exposure to French Symbolist poetry during a stay in Paris had convinced him of the necessity for a more subjective art; there was no need, he said, for more paintings of "people who read and women who knit." Associated with the international development of Symbolism in the 1890s, he is also recognized as a precursor of Expressionism. Text from: www.moma.org/collection/browse_results.php?object_id=80644

André Derain. (French, 1880-1954). London Bridge. London, winter 1906. Oil on canvas, 26 x 39" (66 x 99.1 cm). Gift of Mr. and Mrs. Charles Zadok. Text from: www.moma.org/collection/browse_results.php?object_id=79103